


Something Lost, Something Found

by HowardR



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Marlene McKinnon, Dorcas Meadowes is a squib, Dorcas Meadowes is actually important?, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Repressed, Feelings, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, Harry Potter is So Done, I Tried, Knifeplay, Lily is there too i promise, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Master of Death Harry Potter, Mental Health Issues, Minor Canonical Character(s), Minor James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Minor Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon, Obsessive Behavior, POV First Person, POV Remus Lupin, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Remus Lupin Needs a Hug, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Squibs, Tags Are Fun, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, Young James Potter, Young Remus Lupin, Young Sirius Black, but she's still at Hogwarts, sometimes, there's a side fic too now, too many of them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:13:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23582155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowardR/pseuds/HowardR
Summary: A boy with long, black, bloody hair stumbles into the great hall, and everyone goes silent.Including, but not limited to, the four Marauders.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Harry Potter
Comments: 91
Kudos: 639
Collections: Harry Potter Centric Fanfiction, literally amazing i could read these over and over





	1. Prologue: Am I dead?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> J. K., no profits, blah blah blah.

_ Slam! _

His hair was untidy as it would always be, I would later know. The blood in it had long since crusted and dried, flakes of rusty red sprinkled into the greasy black glinting mop that somehow managed to defy gravity in spite of the fact that it should have been matted to his forehead. Dirt was sprinkled in, too, a healthy amount of brown adding to the general feeling of rusted obsidian, if volcanic glass could rust. The hair was so black it glinted purple in the hall, and it reminded me of an odd combination between the greasiness of Severus Snape’s hairdo and the untame-ability of James’s.

The shirt that hung off his frame was so tattered that I could tell, even at this distance, that he was wearing two of them and not one, the remaining untarnished patches of one covering the rips and tears of the other. But, despite that, whenever the wind caught the clothing wrong in the drafty great hall you caught glimpses of skin and scars just beneath the blood stained cotton. Or maybe polyester - I was never exactly a fashion guru.

The hall was silent, everyone staring at the boy who had just slammed into the great hall with bloodstained hair and darting eyes.

His pants were in better shape than his shirt, only a few rips here and there marking the obvious lack of recent replacement. They, too, were unwashed, stains of what could be dirt or blood covering it in thick patches and chlorophyll seeped into the knees. Every tear in those cargo pants revealed a scar; some thick and grisly, some thin and crusted with dried blood, one even the shiny mark of what looked to be a burn from dragon’s breath.

Scents from the boy filled my nostrils, and nobody looked away from the boy as my nose twitched. Emotion was harder to distinguish, especially in a hall full of overly-emotional teens, but I could smell the waves of despair seeping out of the boy as clearly as I could smell the scent of blood.

And loss. That empty, dark, pungent smell. Ask me not how a smell can be empty, but that is the only word I had ever been able to fit to it.

But most remarkable about him was his  _ eyes _ .

I had thought, once, that I would never see eyes more vivid than those of Lily Evans. Those eyes of jade pierced him with endless fields of shining gems, and the rolls of his nails had stopped as he had felt their cold gaze fill him, when he had laughed with his friends and been treated to glares from her for his trouble.

But no; the most vivid gaze I know, even to this day, belongs to the eyes of the man staring into the hall right this moment.

Where Lily’s eyes were emerald, shining caves and stone caverns, his eyes were lighter, brighter, though much less innocent. The eyes of Lily shined with white light, like the harsh light of fluorescent lamps, and her gaze was so…  _ innocent _ . Like the eyes of a child.

But his eyes shined with a light that was  _ golden _ . The melted amber of honey, not glittering like those emerald eyes, but  _ shining _ and  _ pulsing _ with some unknown goal, some unknown ambition. And the colour of them…

_ Killing curse green. _

That was the only colour which fit that shade; killing curse green. That harsh, swooping light; lighter than grass, brighter than jade and darker than lime. Killing curse green.

But most outsetting about those eyes were the  _ pupils _ .

In Lily’s eyes, the pupil was something you could skip over. It was all the same plane; the iris, the pupil and the cochlea. The only difference was, the iris shined with emerald, while the pupils were dull. Flat. Skippable.

Like I had always thought my eyes looked.

But his pupils… they were like  _ pits _ . Empty ebony that seemed hollowed out with despair, with that empty scent of loss that I knew so well and yet so rarely smelled. The walls of the pit were cold, stiff, and stretching forever into the inky black void.

_ When you stare into the void, it stares back. _

Those eyes darted around the hall, seeming to drink in every little detail. For the smallest moment, I could have sworn his eyes locked onto me before continuing their darting glances at silent, shocked faces.

I could never quite capture what I felt in that moment, later; and sometimes, I wasn’t even convinced I actually felt it. It was too…  _ ethereal _ . Too untouchable, too happy and dream-like to be real. Like that crush you had on the girl which never showed you more than common courtesy; something private, hopeful, and yet doomed to failure. Something you knew would never come true, no matter how much you dwelled on it.

Some thoughts, I always knew, were private. Were for you and you alone. I had always known that you should tell your loved ones everything, but some things were just for you. Some thoughts nobody else should, or would, know.

I had one of those thoughts, then. That, at that moment, I could have fallen into that gaze and never came back.

And then, the moment was gone. The beautiful, untouched feeling swelling inside me was snuffed out as that gaze darted one last time; to the golden headmaster’s chair, where he was met with a pair of blue eyes twinkling with concern.

“Am I dead?”

The whisper would have never been heard in a great hall with nearly half its noise capacity. The voice was too quiet, too broken. But in the complete, deafening silence, the broken whisper nearly  _ echoed _ off the walls in its volume, so complete was the shock of the student body.

The boy had only spoken three words, and yet I was already curious.

Then, the silent moment was broken by the loud scraping of the headmaster’s chair. I glanced up only long enough to see the concerned gaze of Dumbledore before looking again at the fascinating mystery in front of us.

Though the silence was broken, nobody spoke as Dumbledore walked forward and escorted the boy out with kind eyes and soothing words which seemed to roll off the boy like water. When the door closed, though, the hall was filled with loud chattering as everyone instantly got to talking about the unprecedented surprise.

That was the first time I, Remus Lupin, ever saw Horatio Maeyres in person. And I must say, the dramatic entrance certainly fit his dramatic appearance at hogwarts; fast, shocking, unplanned, uncontrolled and forceful. That was Harry in a nutshell, alright.

Sometimes I wasn’t sure whether to slap him or laugh when he was over-dramatic.

Which wasn’t exactly rare.

And that was pretty much when my life started getting better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know - posting all these fic starts will probably just lead to all of them burning out. But I just had to get one more out there, because I am simply obsessed with the idea of a fic where Harry goes to the Marauders' era.
> 
> This one is probably going to be updated less regularly then my other fics, and, fair warning, I have no idea where this is going to go. It may read like a full, seamless story like Second-Generation Marauders, it might have regular time skips over the boring stuff like He Was Six, it might even end up reading more like a collection of one shots. Or maybe a combination of all three. It might be all Remus's perspective, it might switch between him and Harry, it might jump all over the place, who knows. Certainly not me.
> 
> Either way, though, I hope you guys like it. And give me some feedback, if you would? I wrote this a while ago, it just wouldn't get out of my head, so my writing style may come out a bit... clunky.
> 
> \- R., Howard


	2. Abyssal

The first class was defense.

I say,  _ the first class, _ not because it was the first of the year (though it was, which was a little odd) but because it was the first class I had with Harry.

It seems not a tiny bit odd to me, in retrospect, that Harry wasn’t noticed for a long while, though at the time it seemed ludicrous. After all, Harry was the talk of the whole damn  _ school _ by that point, and the idea that the class had been gossiping about him while he was sitting calmly (well,  _ calmly) _ in the back, fiddling with a pair of knives, is indeed a rather unlikely one.

Especially since he had been fiddling with  _ knives. _

We’ll get back to that one.

And yet, nobody noticed Harry. He sat in the very back, ensconced in shadow, and seemed like he simply  _ belonged _ there in a way that is impossible to really describe. And so, eyes simply slid over him, almost like he was just another piece of furniture.

I was only a tiny bit anxious.

The reasons for my small amount of anxiety were entirely informed by the track record of the class - though, in hindsight, they would have also been informed by the boy fiddling with a pair of daggers in the corner, if I had noticed him.

The track record of the class, though, was what gripped me then, amongst the aimless gossip of my students.

As a prefect, it had fallen upon me last year to help the incredibly unfit teacher do his job, and it had been the worst kind of nightmare. The kind of nightmare where you totally believe it’s real, and truly buy into the fact that you are about to die a brutal, horrible death.

I didn’t have nightmares often. At least, not since the Marauders.

My hands were fiddling a little. I had ticks - not ones as bad as Harry did, like fiddling with knives and biting his nails to the quick and below. But they were nonetheless ticks, and they were still bad. Or at least cumbersome.

Rolling my nails was one I had picked up recently. A four-beat pattern that would hound me whenever I couldn’t keep my thoughts centered and focused.

_ Cli-cli-cli-click. _

Why wasn’t the professor here yet? 

_ Cli-cli-cli-click. _

Class was going to start in just a minute or two.

_ Cli-cli-cli-click. _

Was I in for another year of not being sure if the professor would even show up?

_ Cli-cli-cli-click. _

I began to pick at the frayed cuffs of my robe - the only part of my uniform that was at all dilapidated.

Eyes glinted at me from the corner of my vision.

“Uh - Remus, mate? You’ve been staring off into nothing the last ten minutes or so.”

I winced slightly, a tiny bit of heat crawling under my skin uncomfortably - like ants making a home in my flesh, wriggling despondently.

“Sorry, Padfoot.” My voice was at a normal volume, but only because the rest of the class was talking up a whirlwind. I was sure that if we were in out dorms, my embarrassment - small as it was - would make my voice a touch softer.

Sirius shrugged easily, lounging in his chair. It struck me not for the first time just how easily he lounged - almost cat-like in his boneless relaxation.

I didn’t voice that sentiment, though. Sirius would take it as an insult, and his furious ‘oy!’ was legendarily uncontrollable. I didn’t want the attention of the class upon us.

He waved an unconcerned hand, and grinned at me. “Just try to stay with us, alright?”

I gave him a thumbs-up with almost military sharpness, and flashed him a sheepish grin back.

When Sirius turned away, I let out a soft breath, and re-focused my attention to the front of the class.

It would be fine.

_ I _ would be fine.

And, finally, the door opened.

My eyes instantly found the professor coming into through the door, and my nose twitched. The next full moon was uncomfortably close - it was part of the reason I was a little irritable, and it was how I had been able to smell some of the emotion radiating off everyone the last day.

It proved quite lucky, because the scents I caught from the professor coming in the door eased my fears a bit.

Utter confidence. A little arrogance, but not enough to be worrying. Spirit.  _ Life. _

She moved with an ease that spoke of a complete lack of concern, as the students shuffled to their seats. She closed the door behind her with a slight flourish, and stood at the front of the class, blackboard behind her.

She inspected them for a moment with a small smile.

She was tall. Quite tall, actually, considering she looked fairly young. Her arms were behind her back, long and pale. Her red hair - light auburn, not like Lily’s strawberry red - was tied back into a loose tail. Loose enough that a few stray hairs still fell into her face. Her skin was unblemished, and her sparkling blue eyes spoke of an easy, if adventurous life.

She kept smiling that tiny, cheerful smile as she began to speak.

“My name is Patricia Rakepick. You may address me as Ms. Rakepick, or Ms. R.”

She turned smoothly and wrote her name on the board.

“Now, we’re going to start with just a tiny getting-to-know-you exercise. It helps me remember names, and I don’t want to end up switching around anything because of my forgetfulness.”

She tilted her head slightly, and tapped all her fingers against the line on her jaw, one after the other. She seemed to think for a moment, and then smiled again, and opened her desk drawer.

She reached in and pulled out a baseball.

Considering the class was Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, more then a few people recognized the item. Every Marauder recognized it, too, because I had made the mistake of telling them there was a muggle game where you smashed a ball as hard as you could with a stick and everyone but Peter had instantly wanted to give it a shot.

“I’m going to toss this ball,” Ms. Rakepick said, holding the ball in question between her thumb and forefinger. “The person who catches it tells the class their name, and one interesting thing about themselves.”

Every Hufflepuff in the room looked delighted to be given such an easy and fun activity to start off with. The Gryffindors looked equally appreciative - though probably more because this exercise indicated that the class wouldn’t be a tough one.

Ms. Rakepick tossed the ball, and a boy with short-cropped brown hair caught it.

* * *

“Remus Lupin.”

My voice came out a little quieter then I intended, considering the eyes of the class were on me. I recited the fact I already had prepared - a boring one, easily dismissable.

“I love dark chocolate.”

The tiny voice that said  _ say ‘I’m a werewolf’ _ was almost surely there only because I had spent too much time around Sirius.

Ms. Rakepick grinned and nodded, as if in approval, as I tossed the ball back.

The next few people came and went, the facts they recited going in one ear and out the other. I waited, picking at my sleeve whenever my mind began to wander.

Occasionally, I would tune back in, though it was rare. I heard clearly the voice of Marlene McKinnon, Sirius’s last girlfriend, who told the class about her pet rabbit. I also tuned in when Evans spoke, almost instinctually - because James had ordered long ago that we memorise anything we could about Lily, and, though Sirius hounded him about it (pun intended), we still did it. James’s word was law, after all.

She just said that she was muggleborn.

When the ball came to James, he bragged about his position on the Quidditch team. When it came to Peter, he squeaked something about his abysmal potion grades. Sirius spoke with a kind of quiet gravity that I very rarely heard in his voice, and just a hint of pride, when he said that he was the only Black to go into Gryffindor since Dorea.

That one caused an approving look from Ms. Rakepick, who said that she had been in Gryffindor too.

I began to mentally track how long it was until the class ended after that, deciding that there were no more people I particularly wanted to hear from. I began to pack up my things and shuffled around to get the books for my next class on the top.

I was done with that and picking at my sleeve when the ball was tossed again, to the very back of the room, and a voice spoke.

“Harry Maeyres.”

I wasn’t quite sure, in the moment, what made my ears twitch and focus sharpen when I heard that voice. It wasn’t a particularly confident one, or even a particularly nice one. It was scratchy. Gravelly. Quiet, and soft, and maybe just a little bit broken.

In hindsight, though, I think the reason I really  _ listened _ was because - even though his voice was soft - there was an unyielding confidence to it. A hint of steel, that sounded like it belonged in the voice of a Slytherin more then that of a Gryffindor. That same kind of quiet assurance that nothing would dare defy him - and that what would, would be dead before they knew how big a mistake they had made.

The voice paused. I didn’t glance back at it - something in me felt frozen, molten, unable to act.

“...I can cast a corporeal patronus charm.”

_ That _ caused a reaction.

Ms. Rakepick blinked, before simply staring at the boy ensconced in shadow in the back of the class - eyes glittering like black-polished emeralds.

I didn’t see any of that. I didn’t see that he was cloaked in shadow, or how his eyes looked in the darkness. I was still frozen. Still. Unmoving.

I couldn’t look back, for some reason I wasn’t able to identify.

All the other Marauders had looked back, though. Sirius was literally slack-jawed, and while the others had less obvious reactions, they still looked pretty damn shocked.

I was a little shocked, too. A  _ corporeal _ patronus at  _ seventeen? _ Even just a  _ shield _ was impressive by that age.

“Can you provide a demonstration, Mr. Maeyres?” Ms. Rakepick said, a smile on her face and shock gone now - though she sounded just a bit disbelieving.

There was a pause.

And then, that quiet voice again - soft and unyielding.

_ “Expecto Patronum.” _

It had no effort put into it - just what sounded like an order.

And his wand clearly complied.

The entire class was engulfed in a white field, thick and bright. I had to squint against it, so great was the burning glow that filled the room.

I finally turned, the glow jump-starting my reaction.

And there was Harry. Wand held like a conductor’s baton. Back straight. Eyes glittering.

I almost didn’t recognize him. I certainly wasn’t surprised nobody else had. With no blood matted in his hair - now tied back into a loose tail - and a change of clothes, along with a shower and change in expression, he looked almost completely different from the boy who had stumbled into the Great Hall just the previous day.

But I could never forget those eyes.

Pupils black. Swirling.

_ Abyssal. _

I felt my breath leave like someone had kicked me, in the soft spot just below my ribs.

Seeing those eyes again was, almost, a literal punch to the gut.

I couldn’t tear myself away from them -  _ those pupils, thick and black and swirling, and that green, a shade I had never known I needed to see and see  _ _ always _ _ - _

He blinked, looking faintly surprised by something. The kind of quiet surprise that comes when someone has told you that the date is one day later then you thought.

He tilted his head, just slightly.

And the cloud of nearly-blinding light  _ shifted. _

I started, as I realized what it would take another few moments for everyone else to know.

_ That _ _ was the boy’s patronus. _

My jaw finally went slack. Just enough that my chapped lips parted, just the tiniest bit. I wasn’t left gaping like a fish - but to get me shocked enough that  _ any _ part of me actually  _ loosened _ was more than enough to make you a force of nature, as far as I was concerned.

The cloud of light left the room, and everyone was left blinking.

Ms. Rakepick was the first to look out the window and see where it -  _ it, the boy’s patronus,  _ _ Harry’s _ _ patronus, big enough to  _ _ fill a fucking room _ _ what the actual  _ _ fuck _ \- had gone.

A  _ dragon _ was hovering outside. Blinding white, with soft blue flames trailing up and out of its nostrils.

I stared.

The class stared.

Ms. Rakepick let out a breath.

“...Well done, Mr. Maeyres!” She suddenly cried - causing everyone’s awareness to jump-start into functioning again. “Oh my, that certainly is something, isn’t it?”

I almost laughed. I’m sure, in hindsight, that the laugh would’ve been hysterical if it had left me.

“A  _ dragon. _ Incredibly rare - meaning steadfastness, loyalty. Unwilling to back down from a challenge. Quick to lead.”

She turned to him suddenly.

“...I suggest you look into your patronus, Mr. Maeyres.” She smiled at him. “It has quite the story behind it.”

Harry nodded. I didn’t see it, but I’m sure in hindsight that he did.

I was still staring at the dragon.

Harry flicked his wand - again, I didn’t see it, but I know in hindsight what he does to dismiss his patronus - and the dragon vanished as suddenly as it had erupted from his wand.

A fucking  _ dragon. _

Sirius turned to me suddenly. I almost groaned at the sparkle in his eyes.

It was the same look he got when he started pursuing a new girlfriend.

He was going to go  _ after _ Maeyres.

I almost pitied the boy. But I was too busy pitying myself.

After all - I was the one who would have to watch his movements on the map. I was the only one who stayed up late enough - usually studying. I was never sure how James and Sirius were able to keep up their grades with so little late-night library visits.

I rubbed my temples, already preparing for a migraine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I was going to talk about Harry's patronus and my headcanon because I'm not sure if it'll ever actually come up in the story again, but /holy fucking shit what the fuck guys/.
> 
> 88 kudos. over 1.3k hits. 19 bookmarks.
> 
> On *one* chapter.
> 
> You're all /insane/.
> 
> Thank you all so much for your kindness and patience. This is actually an insane amount of support for just one chapter. It's one of my most supported stories - and I have 24 of them!
> 
> I do read comments. I didn't respond to any of the comments on the last chapter, but I'll start responding now. Thanks again to everyone whose bookmarked, subscribed, left kudos - even to anyone whose just read enough to get to this sentence.
> 
> -R., Howard


	3. Frosty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Support MIlestones:  
> 50 Bookmarks  
> 200 kudos  
> Added to a collection

“He’s in Gryffindor, right?”

“I wonder where he came from?”

“Look, over there-”

“Did you see his face?”

“Did you see his scars?”

I had been tuning out gossip like that for the last two minutes, still trying to get to my damn potions class. After this was lunch, so I could (hopefully) escape from this annoyance for a while afterwards.

I stopped tuning it out when I heard someone laugh.

The Marauders - including me - all whipped to the sound, and found Harry, standing right next to us, wiping his eyes.

He glanced up, and blinked at us.

And shrugged.

“Sorry. Inside joke.” He offered quietly, already walking off.

Sirius wasn’t letting it go at that, though - and, really, I could hardly blame him.

“Wait! One mo’-”

Sirius made the mistake of trying to grab Harry by the shoulder.

Of course, none of us knew at the time that it was a mistake. That it was honestly, a generally terrible idea to touch Harry without his permission. It was just a simple, easy gesture - one made almost purely out of instinct. Sirius had always been a touchy-feely kinda guy, anyway.

Unlike me.

But it was a mistake, of course. And a bad one at that.

A flash. A smell like flint being struck.

And Sirius had a wand pressed to his throat.

For a horrible moment, everything seemed silent. The bustling crowd around us, not even really noticing the commotion, seemed like static noise in the background of a storm.

And I got a good look at him.

His  _ eyes _ \- I almost couldn’t look away, they had taken my focus every time, I could hardly see the rest of him, because  _ Christ and Merlin _ those  _ eyes. _

But I could almost pay attention to the rest of him, now - with the thick scent of struck flint and ash swirling around me.

His hair was washed thoroughly, now. No blood matted in it, dried or otherwise. No dirt collecting in clumps, no grease shining against the rising sunlight that dusted the hall like cobwebs. His skin was clean, too - and, in the spots where it was clear of scars, I could see that it was a lightly tanned golden kind of colour.

But his scars stood out like wounds in the light, close enough now that I could see them all. And I was sure Sirius could see them, too - that was probably what was keeping him silent.

His neck and wrists had some odd, almost surely magical pattern - like golden brands, in links like chains. Around his eyes were light, barely-there white lines, spreading out like spiderwebs. He had a thin nick on his cheek, and his ear had a chunk taken out of it.

His hair covered his forehead, though - which almost surely had an extra scar or two, I thought.

And then, suddenly, Harry pulled away.

Sirius didn’t even have a moment to rub at the spot on his neck before he was staring - because Harry was gripping at his forehead so tight his knuckles turned white, and he was slightly curled up in what looked like pain. His hair covered his lowered face - all but one piercing eye, staring out from between his fingers and obscured by thin filaments of blackish-brown.

“I-I’m sorry.” He muttered through grit teeth - and his voice was thick with something I couldn’t put my finger on.

The air was still choked with the smell of ash - panic, I knew panic well - but now there was something else. Something almost citrusy, sour and sweet and rotten.

Pain.

And then, he was running away like his life depended on it - limping slightly, I couldn’t help but notice, he hadn’t been limping earlier.

We all stared after him.

There was a moment of quiet.

“...Uh - mates?” Sirius murmured, finally - and pulled his hand away from his neck.

His neck - which had thin patterns of what looked like  _ frost _ embedded into it.

“This  _ really _ hurts.”

* * *

They took Sirius to the hospital wing.

“Ah - it’s the famed little group of tricksters.” Pomfrey said, bustling forward and already inspecting each of them in turn - and quickly zeroed in on Sirius, holding his neck and wincing slightly. “Didn’t even last a whole school day, hm? Alright - let’s see it, Mr. Black, what have you done this time?”

Sirius peeled back his hand - the thin patterns of ice on his neck had spread slightly, and the skin around them was turning an alarming shade of off-white.

Pomfrey huffed, already leading Sirius to a bed and making slightly chiding noises.

“Playing around with ice magic again? And something dangerous this time, too - don’t try to deny it, Mr. Black, I can tell combat magic when I see it.”

“How many times must I ask you to call me Sirius, dearest Pomfrey?” Sirius said, with his best attempt at a dashing grin - though it was wavering with pain at the corners.

“How many times must I tell you to be quiet and still while I’m working, Black?”

I hovered awkwardly while Pomfrey did her scans - trading glances with James and Peter.

None of us were going to tell on Harry, of course - it was hardly his fault, and we certainly weren’t tattle-tails - but none of us were really sure what to do about this startling new development. Harry might very well have pissed Sirius off - we couldn’t really tell. He had been eerily silent the whole way here, holding his neck and looking off into nothing with what could only be described as a completely blank expression.

“You can leave, boys.” Pomfrey said suddenly, running her wand over Sirius for what was probably far from the last time. “He should be fixed up pretty quickly - he’ll likely make it for lunch. This isn’t anything life-threatening.”

We all traded another look - and sent one to Sirius.

Sirius, who didn’t look back at us.

We left.

* * *

Peter didn’t have potions with us. He hadn’t quite made the E required to get in - I had no idea how  _ I _ had managed that E. It was almost certainly the written part of my OWL that had managed to slip me by - and I had gotten a lucky draw, potions-wise, on the practical side.

So, it was just James and I today.

Class started pretty regularly. Slughorn welcomed us back with his usual joviality, asking us about our respective Summers. Well,  _ our _ \- mostly just the ‘worthy’ students. He couldn’t gush over Snape anymore - we had this class with the Ravenclaws - but he certainly spent plenty of time on Lily Evans.

He finally took role call after a solid five minutes of lollygagging - and stopped, quite suddenly, after Mary Macdonald. How  _ she _ had gotten into this class was beyond even my skills of deduction.

“Ah, yes! Children, I nearly forgot - we have a new Gryffindor student! Everyone, would you - Harry, why don’t you come up here, hm?”

A pause

The screech of a chair being pulled back.

James and I glanced behind us - and then traded a look.

Harry shuffled to the front of the class - and the muttering started.

“Why don’t you introduce yourself, my boy?” Slughorn said happily - Harry came up to stand next to him.

Harry straightened.

“Hello.” He offered, raking his eyes over the class - for a moment, I almost thought he paused on me. “I’m Harry Maeyres.”

“Why don’t you tell the class something about yourself, hm? You didn’t get to participate in the class getting-to-know-you exercises, after all!”

Slughorn chuckled at his own joke. Harry sent him a veiled glance, that I couldn’t help but read as  _ repulsed. _

Harry considered for a moment.

“I rode a dragon out of Gringotts after stealing a dark artifact from the Lestrange vault.” He said finally - with a tiny, conspiratorial smile.

There were a few snickers at his joke.

Slughorn chuckled lowly, gesturing him back to his seat.

“We have another jokester, I see! Why, we already have - wait a moment, where is Mr. Black?”

This was met with resounding silence.

“...Must be sick, then. Someone get his work to him, wouldn’t you?”

And, with that - the subject was dropped.

The lesson began - mostly just safety tips and review from last year. James and I ended up trading doodles on the margins of our notes just to pass the time.

Nobody looked at Harry for the rest of the lesson.

Muttering about him never stopped, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, lesson learned - I'm hereby not going to comment on the amount of support this fic gets, because. Uhm.
> 
> The amount of support I've gotten has practically doubled.
> 
> So, instead, I'll just rant like normal. I'm really enjoying writing Remus's perspective, even if it didn't really come into play much this chapter - but I think I'm going to end up switching it up a little as time goes on.
> 
> This fic is probably going to be pretty slow burn, so be ready for that. Probably.
> 
> I do read comments. I do respond to them. And I appreciate every bit of support - so, even though I said I won't acknowledge support, I will dedicate a little section to milestones in the beginning notes.
> 
> -R., Howard.


	4. Simulacra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Milestones:  
> 5000 hits

When James and I came to lunch, Sirius was at the table, waiting for us.

He was staring very intently at his plate, pushing around a single potato wedge. 

I sent James a concerned glance. He returned it - but offered an easy enough shrug.

And, clearly, decided this situation did  _ not _ need a subtle touch.

“Hey Pads.” He said, flopping easily into the chair across from Sirius and taking to potato wedge for himself. Sirius glanced up at him - and offered a wide grin.

“Prongs! I’ve been waiting on you - where’re the others?”

“Here,” I offered, sitting next to James and tipping Sirius my best two-finger wave. I pushed down the concern in my chest, and instead just did my best to smile.

Sirius grinned right back.

“And Wormtail?”

I shrugged.

“He’ll be here soon. Probably.”

Sirius leaned back, offering us yet another wide, unsteady grin. He propped his feet up on the table - and raised a finger as he talked.

“Alright lads. I have come up with -  _ a plan.” _

I blinked. James, on the other hand, was already grinning right along.

“Already, Pads?” he said, leaning forward and putting his hands on the table. “Which genius idea have you come up with now, oh-so-wonderful pal o’ mine?”

“Well, you wondrously clever gentlemen,” Sirius fired back - I sighed lowly. “I have decided that - of course - young Mr. Maeyres must be introduced to the school more…  _ formally.” _

James - clearly already catching on, what with the psychic connection he and Sirius clearly shared - nodded thoughtfully, lips twitching.

“That does seem to be the best course of action, my good man. But you must be aware - no  _ slimy snakes _ better be the ones to show him around.”

“Took the words right outta my mouth, you amazing stag, you.” Sirius said.

I glanced up, and took only a moment to ask God and Merlin above to give me the strength required for this trial of patience, before saying in as monotone a voice as I could manage,

“What are you two idiots blathering on about.”

Sirius glanced at me - as if he had forgotten I was still there.

Honestly, he probably had.

“Oh, right. Well, we’re gonna give  _ Harry _ a tour of the school, once classes are over.”

I stared at him, for a moment.

“But. Uhm. He doesn’t know us. Or like us. Or give a shit what we think.”

James and Sirius both gasped.

“Such  _ language, _ Mr. Lupin!”

“You kiss your mother with that mouth, Rem?”

“Well, of course not, Pads, that would just be unbelievable rude.”

“Just fucking deplorable.”

“Utterly awful.”

“Terrible.”

“Shitty.”

“Ju-”

“Could you two stop, please, and explain?” I said, trying to not get annoyed.

“Well, we’ll get the cloak-” James said - before taking a sip from his goblet as Sirius leaped in with a,

“Mosey down to his dorm room - he’s in Gryffindor, after all-”

“Make sure he’s asleep,”

“Tie him up,”

“And throw his bed into the great lake!” they chorused.

And then high-fived.

_ (I was really starting to wish I had never told them about that. They always took too well to muggle things.) _

“...You are aware,” I said quietly, wishing that Peter was here. He could usually tone the two down, at least a little, when their plans got a bit… off the rails. “That this could very well kill him.”

“He’ll be fine.” Sirius said, instantly. “He’s a wizard, isn’t he?”

“I mean,  _ we _ would certainly be fine.” James added, taking another sip of whatever was in his goblet.

“Yes, but you two have learned to wake up on a hair-trigger and to always expect early morning retaliation pranks.”

“We can always lift him out,” James said.

“Besides, if Harry doesn’t already expect this kinda stuff - we better teach him, right?” Sirius added - and the light behind his eyes was that one I  _ really _ didn’t like.

The one that had been there the night before he sent Snape into the Whomping Willow.

I took a deep breath.

In.

And out.

“...Alright. We’ll do it. But if it looks like he can’t get out on his own-”

“Pull him right up.” James said, instantly. Sirius looked a little more reluctant - but nodded.

Sometimes I wondered if I would’ve ended up better, if I had let the Sorting Hat put me in Slytherin.

* * *

The next class was History of Magic. Neither James, nor Sirius attended it - they’re aspirations to become Marauders only required five N.E.W.T.s, and History of Magic wouldn’t help them. I, on the other hand, wanted to do some more digging into this subject - even though I still wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do with my life after Hogwarts.

Professor Binns was… interesting. He had a very odd teaching style, anyway. He didn’t really like practical lessons, but he certainly showed excitement in his subject. He seemed to despise, on principal, any talk of things that weren’t identifiable fact - he had once gone on a rant about ‘the forest of all knowledge,’ and how getting lost in what was and wasn’t true was a good way to strand yourself amongst the foliage and beasts, waiting in the dark.

This time, I looked for Harry the moment we entered.

He was sitting in the very back, next to Pandora - who always sat about as far back as she could manage, with the exception of magical theory class, where she sat front and center. His eyes were pinned to Pandora’s hands, busy folding a paper crane.

Pandora Simulacra was the weirdest witch I had ever known. No exceptions. Sure, Marlene was a little odd here and there, and the squib who helped the Herbology professor had never spoken once, as far as I knew - but Pandora was a whole other level of odd. She had straight O’s one year, and T’s the next. Her interests flipped as wildly as her hair - she spent more time in the library then anywhere else, likely including her home and dorm. Her hands never stopped moving, as far as I could tell - her fingers twitched when not active, and she often busied herself by folding her napkins and papers into pieces of intricate origami. Cranes were actually quite mundane for her.

But I didn’t know much about her, outside of hearsay. After all, James and Sirius hated all Slytherins on instinct - and I tried not to interact with people my friends hated.

I slid into my seat - still sending the occasional glance at Harry, who was still watching Pandora fold.

My ears twitched when they started whispering.

“You’re staring,” Pandora said, lowly.

I did my best to stare as inconspicuously as possible.

Harry smiled, a little.

“I was just curious. I’ve always wanted to be able to fold paper cranes. Never learned properly.”

Pandora turned to him - and blinked.

“You could have asked. Your eyes are very old.”

Harry’s smile didn’t falter.

“Are they?”

“Yes. You have eyes like the pits of hell. Dark, empty - cold and hot at once. Filled with the murmurings of forgotten things. Where did you get those scars?”

“Which ones?” Harry muttered back - his eyes drifted to Pandora’s tie. Her tie clip was pearly white today.

He seemed oddly unfazed by the way Pandora hopped from subject to subject.

“The ones around your eyes.”

“Oh. Those are from a… trip. I didn’t make the proper preparations for it, and uh… got a little torn up on the way over.”

Pandora blinked - and tilted her head a little.

“Mm. Interesting.”

“You’re in Slytherin?” Harry said, gesturing to her tie.

“Oh. Yes, I believe so. I haven’t checked in a while, though - perhaps you should ask Arceus.”

Harry blinked.

“Arceus?”

“Mm. He’s a hat. We’re friends.”

Harry nodded thoughtfully - like this made perfect sense.

“Eh. I don’t really want to talk to that particular hat, at the moment. Our last conversation left him a little mad at me.”

Pandora’s eyes tore through him.

“Mad? What could possibly make Arceus mad?”

“Uh… seeing his own death?” Harry said with a shrug.

I blinked.

Pandora’s eyes widened, a little.

“...You aren’t from around here, are you?”

Harry smiled. “What gave it away?”

Pandora leaned forward - and her eyes were suddenly wide and sharp as daggers.

“How did you get here?”

Harry opened his mouth.

Paused.

Closed it.

And glanced around.

I instantly turned back to the front, and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible.

“This isn’t the place.” He murmured - I had to strain my ears to hear him, even with the slight boost I had. “We’ll talk in your dorms after classes?”

My hand gripped the edge of my desk.

This was getting more and more interesting by the moment.

I didn’t see Pandora nod - but I didn’t have to.

I’d see where Harry went on the map, anyway.

* * *

It took another two minutes for Binns to arrive.

The door slammed open without warning. A few students startled - I nearly leaped out of my chair.

“I’m here! I’m here!” Binns called, rushing through the doors with a stack of papers in his hands.

He set the papers on his desk the moment he was close enough, and whipped out his wand - flicking it at the door and the chalk in a single movement.

The chalk in question lifted and wrote on the left-hand side of the board, in a hasty, scratchy movement,

_ Nastily  _

_ Exhausting _

_ Wizarding _

_ Tests _

“The N.E.W.T.s!” he called, straightening quickly and running a hand through his greying hair. “The most important test in your prepubescent lives, with the possible exception of the O.W.L.s! Your job is to study your behinds off and manage to get through them without losing ten years of your life - and  _ my _ job is to make sure you can accomplish that just by doing what I say! So I don’t want to hear one of you complaining, alright? We both know how much this will hurt to go through, there’s no need to talk about it! Now-”

His chalk drew a harsh dividing line between what it had just written, and the rest of the board. It began hastily scratching line after line of hard-to-read script, while Binns rushed on with his speech.

“I will admit, the last few years of this class have been fairly easy! The assignments were usually just a bit of fun, the homework was just making sure you could listen to lectures and read passages - we even had the occasional party!”

This was true. Binns had thrown a small party for the students who had passed his O.W.L, the first day of class. It had been a decent amount of fun, even without Sirius and James there - especially considering that they’d had that class with the Hufflepuffs instead, which made for a much more interesting party. He’d done this again last year.

“But no more!”

A few faces crumpled.

I glanced back.

Harry was staring up at Binns with what looked like something close to shock.

“This year, we’ve  _ got _ to get you prepared to go out into the world! We’ve got to make sure you’re never blindsided by important information in the middle of an argument! We’ve got to make sure no aspiring Ministers for Magic in here rush us headfirst into a war with the Goblins by accidentally committing a social faux pas! And, more importantly then all that,”

He turned to us, suddenly.

“We’ve got to make sure  _ I, have, a, good, record!” _

A pause.

And I couldn’t help but laugh.

A few students joined me - and Binns’ face relaxed as he chuckled with us.

“Okay, okay,” he said, as the laughs died down, “but really. We’ve got to make sure you pass this N.E.W.T. I really am in danger of being fired - and you’re in danger of failing one of your N.E.W.T.s. So we’ve got plenty of motivation! And motivation is the first step to success!”

He drew out his wand again - and tapped the board sharply, pointing at the text on the board.

“So, this year - we’ll be covering the hardest, and thus, most interesting fields of study! The wars between wizards and centaurs, the origins of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures - we’ll have no talk of politics, of course - the rapid spread of scrofungulus and the disruption of the growth of the Ministry, the origins of the three Unforgivable Curses - you’ll be doing an essay on one of them, as well - and just a little extra about dragons, nymphs, and maybe a little talk of dementors if we’ve got some time. I want you all to record this syllabus - it should be a big help as we go through the class! And pay attention, now, because we’re going to get bogged down in little details  _ fast _ if you don’t record your notes! Really, it’s not as important to understand me as to write notes that you’re able to understand later! So - let’s get started!”

I dipped my quill in my ink - and got ready to start taking notes.

And glanced back at Harry one last time.

Harry looked… blank. That was the only word for it. A blank slate of a mask that hid all of what was happening behind his eyes.

He dipped his quill in Pandora’s ink to record the syllabus - and seemed unconcerned by how it flared up into multicolour flames that trailed behind him as he wrote.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, uh, a few things to say.
> 
> I guess I should start by saying - I will not be following the books or the movies very closely. That means the timeline, the characterization, and just little extra details are up in the air. Frankly, if it wasn't outright said in the books, then it's not going to influence this story much - and even if it was, details might be up to... bending.
> 
> This fic is a slow burn. There's very little plot so far. But trust me - I've got one waiting in the wings.
> 
> Which brings me to Binns! I've decided that making him basically the same character, but alive this time - is super boring. History of Magic is an inherently interesting subject to me - I want a good teacher for it! So if you don't want any talk of magical history, you might want to just skip scenes with Binns. Or just quit this fic altogether. If you want to leave a comment about why you dislike it and think it's boring before you leave, I would appreciate it - all criticism is appreciated and taken into account.
> 
> Last chapter was a little slow. But now we're getting into some details and characters that might end up being important.
> 
> Oh, and Pandora! She's here too. Hope you like her.
> 
> -R., Howard


	5. What Happened?

There was only one class left that day. I certainly hadn’t expected to share it with Harry.

  
After all - why would we both take Divination?

I took Divination purely because it was interesting, and I could pass it.

  
The teacher was… odd.

I didn’t know Professor Lynx’s first name. He had never told us. He seemed… a little paranoid, honestly, though he managed to hide it fairly well. He seemed to have a few issues on top of that - some mild OCD, maybe a bit of ADHD. I wasn’t really sure, but he just wasn’t completely there.

Still, that didn’t change the fact that he was a very interesting teacher. And I liked him. James and Sirius dismissed him as a hack, and only took the class as an easy O - but I had decided to keep the class, despite my friends’ belittling. Peter had seemed to expect seerhood to come to him with just a few classes, and had seemed to take it as a personal insult when he was told that Divination wasn’t about being able to tell the future.

_ Slam! _

Speaking of Professor Lynx-

“What is the most important thing to practice?”

He opened with the same question every year.

A field of hands grew from the desks and blossomed.

But Lynx’s eyes didn’t find any one of them.

Instead - he stared at Harry.

Harry - who stared right back.

“Mr. Maeyres? Why don’t you tell us?”

Harry blinked at Lynx knowing his name - but seemed to get past it quickly.

“Considering your subject, sir, I’d say - Divination?”

There were a few chuckles at his joke.

Lynx didn’t react.

“Incorrect. Why don’t you tell me what you really think this time, Mr. Maeyres?”

Harry stared at him, for a moment.

“...To practice, sir?”

“Yes.” Lynx said, flatly.

Harry’s eyes went completely, utterly flat.

“Occlumency.”

Lynx blinked.

And, suddenly - he chuckled.

Surprise flashed across Harry’s face.

“Close - but no cigar, Mr. Maeyres.”

Harry blinked.

And then - something like a smile touched his lips.

“That’s a muggle saying, sir.”

And, just like that - all the joy left Lynx’s face.

“That it is, Mr. Maeyres.”

With quick, short strides, Lynx swept to the front of the classroom.

Lynx looked very interesting. A rumour floated about that he had Dementor blood - this was because he never seemed to look any older, and he was one of the most pale people I had ever seen. He had a thin, whiskery blonde beard, and long hair that was tied back into two pony tails. He had no eyebrows.

One of his front teeth had a chunk taken out of it. When someone had asked him about this in first year, he said that he had sold it to the tooth fairy when he was low on cash.

Everyone laughed except Lynx.

He moved with very quick, short steps - like he was trying to hide in his own shadow. His fingers were long and spidery, as were his feet. He only wore shoes to class about one in every four days.

He turned so sharply that his pony tails flopped over his shoulder - and his eyes pierced them all.

“The most important thing to practice - is  _ scepticism.” _

Nobody was surprised by this.

Well. Nobody but Harry, anyway - who blinked once at this news.

“All things are subjective, class. And you must  _ always _ be re-examining your position in the world. You must always ask questions, about anything and everything. You must constantly wonder - you must practice the eternal art.  _ Scepticism.” _

“Scepticism and curiosity, class - these things are what got me to where I am today. Though, I must admit, being able to see the future helped every now and then.”

A few chuckles ran through the class.

Lynx didn’t chuckle.

“Now. Does anyone want to volunteer to show that they haven’t forgotten anything over the Summer?”

Nobody did, of course.

“...Alright. Mr. Lupin, you seem up to the task. Come to the front.”

I sighed.

And stood.

As I walked down the aisle to the front of the class, my eyes couldn’t help but wander - again - to Harry.

When I saw him, he was already staring at me.

He looked…

Empty.

That frigid, impossible mask. Stone cold, and impossible to see past.

I turned away.

Lynx was looking at Harry, too.

“And please take your hand off your wand, Mr. Maeyres. You won’t get the draw on me any time soon.”

I blinked - pulling to a stop.

And turned to Harry again.

Harry was staring at Lynx - and there was something very deep in his eyes.

Something almost… prickly.

“...I have every right to keep a hand on my wand, sir.”

Lynx raised an eyebrow. Or rather, a lack thereof.

“You have every right to leave this class, Mr. Maeyres. Hand off your wand.”

“With all due respect, sir - no.”

I stared at him.

Turned to Lynx.

A moment passed - where the air seemed to crackle.

And Lynx turned on me.

“Well, Mr. Lupin? I said to the front - what is the hold up?”

The tension in the air dissolved.

“Now, just to remind anyone who may have forgotten over the Summer,” Lynx said - while I reached the front of the class, and sat down - indian-style. I put my hands on my knees, and closed my eyes - letting the drifting voice of Lynx float around me and dull in the darkness. “Mr. Lupin will meditate at the front of the classroom. I will attempt to put a hand on his shoulder. If I succeed, he has clearly not retained any information from this class, and I will give him a T for this assignment. If he opens his eyes before I make any move to touch him, he will get a T. If he opens his eyes while I am reaching over, he will get an O. Now - Mr. Lupin? Do you believe you are ready?”

I breathed in through my nose.

Hold.

Out through my mouth.

In.

Hold.

Out.

I nodded.

Lynx was utterly silent.

My awareness drifted.

The sensation of the cloth against my fingers was the first thing to go. Well, not really  _ go _ \- more… fade. Become irrelevant. It melded into the background of my mind and drifted in a smoky haze.

The bustling noises of the students went next. Their little shuffles and coughs - thin breaths and twitching fingers. All… irrelevant.

In.

Hold.

Out.

And I tried to see Lynx.

It was very odd. Every other student was easy to see. Every other  _ person _ was easy to see. This was how Lynx had first taught us - by having us try to focus on another student. It was far,  _ far _ easier.

The other students were rays of light. Or bubbling pools of light. Or shrapnel-ridden bursts of light.

Lynx was a shade.

In.

Hold.

Out.

I felt the air around me crackling with light.

And Lynx  _ moved. _

_ (He was pretty obvious the first time. He went easy on us first day of class.) _

I opened my eyes.

The haze vanished like it had never existed. Suddenly, everything was light and sound and  _ relevance. _

And Lynx stopped.

Pulled back.

“Well done, Mr. Lupin. Ten points to Gryffindor. Back to your seat.”

I nodded at him, and stood up.

The classroom was the strangest one in the school, probably. It was in the highest spire of the castle - and Lynx seemed to focus his chosen decorum and layout on this above anything else. He put everything around the windows, framing them with furniture and drawers. Light spilled from every crevice and drenched the classroom - and on rainy days, you could practically  _ feel _ the droplets splashing onto the glass - and the tracks of it would cast watery shadows along the features of every student. The walls were plain grey - but every day, the room seemed to be painted a different shade - because the light was never quite the same.

I sat back down in my desk.

“Now,” Lynx said, folding his hands behind his back. “I understand we have a new student. Mr. Maeyres, come to the front, if you would.”

The whole class turned to Harry.

Who stood and shuffled to the front of class.

He walked on light, but sure steps.

Lynx turned to him when he came to the front - and then turned back to the class.

“Class - Mr. Maeyres will have to demonstrate that he belongs in this classroom fairly quickly. I hate to put a student on the spot, but I’m afraid there are no other options, as Dumbledore neglected to warn me about the new student and allow me time to prepare. So we’ll have to improvise.”

He turned on Harry again - who was looking right back at him, spine straight and shoulders tense.

  
“Mr Maeyres, you will be going through the same exercise as Mr. Lupin. I will guide you through it. We will continue to do it until you get it right. Understood?”

Harry nodded.

“Good. Sit.”

Harry shuffled to the floor, and crossed his legs.

“Eyes closed, please.”

That order, Harry seemed much more hesitant to fulfill - but, slowly, he obliged.

“Wonderful. Now - take a deep breath in through your nose. Four seconds.”

Harry did.

“Now hold it for seven seconds.”

Harry’s hands wrapped around his knees as he waited.

“Out through your mouth. Eight seconds.”

Harry exhaled. His expression didn’t relax.

“Good. Again.”

So it went.

Four more times, Harry followed the instructions. Four, seven, eight. I couldn’t help but count along with him - I found that he counted seconds a little faster then I did.

Lynx seemed satisfied after the fifth repeat.

“Good. Keep breathing like that as I guide you through the next steps. It should become second nature after a moment. Now - I want you to relax.”

It didn’t take a psychiatrist to know that Harry didn’t fulfill that order.

“Relax, Mr. Maeyres. Let your muscles go slack. Don’t put any effort into sitting this way - it is practically effortless. Starting with your shoulders - I want you to let them fall, and relax. I want you to let the sensation drip out of them.”

Harry - slowly - let the tense line of his shoulders drop.

But it was clear to everyone in the classroom, who had been doing this for seven years - that he wasn’t really  _ relaxing. _

“Good enough. Now, let that warmth flow down - let the tightness in your chest melt away. Let the sensation leave you - all the way down to your toes.  _ Relax. _

Slowly - very,  _ very _ slowly - the tension in every line of Harry’s frame began to melt away.

But his expression never changed.

His hands loosened around his knees - but the line of his wrist was still  _ that _ kind of tight. The one that said he was prepared to whip out a wand at any moment.

His frame relaxed.

_ He _ didn’t.

“Good enough. It should become easier with practice. Now - I want you to let everything fade away. Starting with the sensation in your hands - I want you to let it melt away. Fade into the background. It doesn’t matter.”

Nobody could tell if Harry succeeded at this.

“Next, the sounds of the classroom. The feeling of eyes on you - the shuffling of skin against cloth. None of it matters, Mr. Maeyres. Let it fade.”

Lynx’s eyes were impossibly sharp on Harry.

“And I want you to focus… on the  _ air. _ Around you -  _ in _ you.”

“It’s moving, Mr. Maeyres.”

“Moving. Crackling.  _ Changing.” _

“I want you to feel it. That thing in the air. That energy. That liquid knowledge - that density - that  _ focus. _ I want you to feel it flowing through you - it will show you everything you need to know, if you only let it.”

“Let it show you where I am.”

Silence.

I began to feel it, almost subconsciously.

I thought of it as an  _ importance. _ Air didn’t matter - but that weird crackling substance in it, that quality about it, that thing that made it swirl in strange patterns and bubble in your skin - it made it  _ important. _

That was how I thought of it. But Lynx often used a half-dozen words for it - trying to lead every student to think of it in their own way. With their own word.

Harry’s frame still hadn’t changed.

Lynx moved.

Now, I had been expecting one of two reactions to this. One - nothing. Two - Harry’s eyes opening.

What I  _ hadn’t _ expected was for Lynx’s hand to  _ catch fire. _

To catch  _ blue _ fire.

Lynx froze.

Harry opened his eyes - and seemed just as startled at the rest of us to see Lynx’s hand on fire.

Except… it didn’t really move like fire. It caught the light in spirals, and sharpened at its edges like knives.

And it was blue, which was quite odd as well.

Everyone stared.

Lynx let out a slow, careful breath.

And the fire vanished.

For a long moment, the classroom was silent.

And then it was filled with sound.

  
Everyone was talking.

_ Everyone. _

Well. Everyone except Harry and I.

I stared up at the front of class.

Lynx was still looking at his hand. And Harry…

  
Harry looked  _ horrified. _

And then, Lynx straightened.

I saw his mouth move, as he said something to Harry.

And then, he shouted, in a single bark,

_ “Silence!” _

Nobody was dumb enough to keep talking.

“Sit,” Lynx said - and his voice left no room for argument.

  
There was a chorus of shuffling as people sat down.

“...Back to your seat, please, Mr. Maeyres.”

Harry blinked.

And speed-walked back to his seat.

The moment he was sitting down, he burrowed his head in his arms.

“Now, class,” Lynx said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Can anyone tell me what just happened?”

No hands raised this time.

“I didn’t think so. What happened - was that Mr. Maeyres failed the assignment.”

Harry’s head whipped up at that - and his eyes were sharp upon Lynx.

“He will not be joining you for dinner. So, I do believe that is enough excitement. How about this - if anyone can tell me what,  _ exactly, _ Mr. Maeyres did - they get an automatic O. Use any resources you wish. Including Mr. Maeyres himself.”

A pause.

And everyone started talking again.

_ (Nobody managed to figure out what had happened. Well - not in exact enough terms for Lynx, anyway. _

_ Harry spent the rest of class swarmed by students asking questions. _

_ He didn’t talk to anyone.) _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra special early chapter! Because why not!
> 
> I didn't expect this section to go on this long - but when it passed 2.3k words, I decided to just publish it on its own. Hope you don't mind. getting two updates in a row.
> 
> So, uh - not a ton to say. I wanted to have absolutely *no* incompetent teachers for this story, because incompetence is boring. To me, anyway. And when I listed out every class to decide which ones I wanted Harry to take, and Lupin to take, and the rest of the marauders to take - I instantly wondered what a *competent* Divination teacher would be like.
> 
> And then it got looped in with the entire story! So I guess it's a good thing this chapter was long - I needed a good establishment for Divination. 
> 
> Next chapter should be the Marauders having dinner - which means that classes are over for the day. Which, uh... means good things and bad things to come.
> 
> There's a lot happening in the first day of this story.
> 
> -R., Howard


End file.
